Foreshadow of Memory Reloaded
by Daniel Wesley Rydell
Summary: Memories are such fickle things. A suggestion here, a subtle dose of magic there and suddenly you find yourself not knowing reality from imagination.
1. Crawling

**Foreshadow of Memory**

I: _Crawling_

* * *

For a second, his fading eyesight blurred.

Normally, this wouldn't have affected him; he wouldn't have even noticed. For… who knows how long… he'd been watching through faded eyes. No, he wouldn't have noticed this minute detail in the grand scheme of this existence he was "living," except one thing.

It was accompanied by pain.

Pain was uncommon in the place that he'd been for an untold amount of time. He'd lost his other sensations of hearing and touch quite some time ago, and his eyesight had been slowly failing. So, when his eyesight blurred and it _hurt_ he had no choice but to react.

Unfortunately, when you are unable to move, to speak or yell or cry, your mind compensates for these things by bringing you memories. The last time he'd felt pain was before he had entered this bright darkness. He'd been accompanied by…

Who?

A face swam into his memories. His tanned skin and bright orange hair seemed so familiar… but no name seemed to associate itself with the man. He knew instinctively that the man played "Blitzball"… but he had no specific idea what "Blitzball" was, or what to "play" meant.

The orange-haired mans face left, replaced by a younger woman. His mind directly linked her with his core being, something about "honor," whatever that was. Her brunette hair cascaded down to her shoulders, and appeared to be even longer than that in the rear. He _knew_ her, but couldn't identify her by name. She knew she was a summoner, but not what a summoner was. It was certainly disconcerting, but hardly unexpected.

Things hadn't made sense for some time.

Another visage came to mind, this time a boy with dirty blonde hair. His eyes twinkled as if they held a private joke, and his mouth uttered silent words, the pleas of a time in the past. That word "Blitzball" came to mind yet again, but it made even less sense this time.

Another woman appeared suddenly; he knew that she was an Al-Bhed… but what that meant escaped him. She was petite, and accompanied by another figure with dark brown hair. They were intimately close, but the male was in a protective position, as a knight to a queen… but so much of this made no sense; he instead chose to clear his mind, a skill he'd learned as a monk.

There it was again, with the nonsense that seemed to be slowly but surely filling his existence with its filth and disgust. He wanted to cringe, to push the thoughts away. He couldn't however, and chose instead to focus on the pain. Within seconds, it increased hundred-fold. His mind was aflame with pain and forgotten memories.

_Please, this pain… just kill me._

_Just kill me now!_

But nothing answered his silent cries. And even the dim light, which had been his only companion faded to absolute darkness. Tears fell down his face, with no idea what crying was, nor why (or how) he was doing it. The darkness was all encompassing, and it began to choke him, as physically as loneliness and angst could. He'd forgotten it all, everything that made him who he once was.

He'd even forgotten his own name.

The level of fear that the simple realization that he was nameless caused was incalculable, as he knew instinctively that his name gave him some sense of pride, of a calling, of _being_. And without his name, all of that meant nothing. Everything he knew, everything he _was, _was leaving him. It in turn, was being replaced by darkness, by nothingness, by meaninglessness.

It scared him that his life, which at one point, he _thought_ had finally ended with fulfillment had been taken away from him.

His own pain of loneliness and self-loathing finally overcame the physical pain that he felt (which somehow, still made no sense that he would be experiencing physical pain.) So now instead of having the outward pain, he was left with his mental anguish.

And the darkness.

_Please… I can deal with this on my own._

_I just need light._

His eyes grasped at darkness, hoping to rip it away, to reveal the light behind it. Unfortunately, the realization came soon enough to his addled mind. He'd finally lost the sense of sight, leaving only his mind to torment him constantly. Memories came and faded, as if his mind were taking out the remnants of the garbage; that which he may have called life.

Part of him cared, but that part was dwindling.

He knew what was coming soon, he understood the word that awaited him. He did understand death perfectly. Blissfully, it seemed to be coming as his memories faded. The pain faded as death sang its sweet ballad.

Still, sadly as it came, he wished only one thing to the darkness.

_I just wish to know my name._

…….

….

……

…..

……..

**What is your name?**

The voice in his head startled him. It was sweet, feminine, with a touch of strength. It commanded him the answer, and he felt no reason he shouldn't.

_My name…? I do not remember…_

Silence met him again, and for the time the past, he began to believe that perhaps even his mind was leaving him. Insanity would be a suitable end for someone who couldn't remember their name.

**Focus. What is your name?**

_I do not remember!_

Now the voice was aggravating, pointing out his only weakness in this place of nothingness and thought.

**You are…**

It forced him to think, however, and he began to analyze it. His name… it had meant so much to him. But why did this voice…?

_Why do you want to know?_

**I won't answer to someone who will not tell me their name.**

Her voice had turned almost cruel, and he mentally shirked away from it.

**I'm sorry. I'm trying to help you. Please, tell me your name.**

He fought through the haze that had inhabited his mind. All the woman was asking for was one thing; that one thing which was troubling him more than anything else in existence at this moment in time.

_I… it's…_

**Hm..?**

_It's… A…_

Yes! He knew it started with an A. Now, if only...

_Au…_

**Yes, you're almost there. Fight it. Fight your despair. **

_It's… Au…Aur…_

He fought with everything left in him. If he was to die, he would die with a name. It was truly all he had left.

_Au…Auron!_

She laughed, and it was musical.

**Hello, Auron.**

**-=-=-=-=-=-=-**

Probably about three years ago, I began writing a series about Auron. It got some pretty decent reviews (in my opinion, of course.) Now, with better writing ability, I wanted to touch on it again.

This is considered part of the Final Fantasy - Clouded Horizons storyline, by the way. You can find out more by checking my bio!

Thanks to my beta-readers Nightfire04 and Darius DeValle.

Till next chapter…


	2. Forgotten

**Foreshadow of Memory**

II: _Forgotten_

* * *

**Hello, Auron.**

The words had echoed in his mind for what seemed like ages after they'd been said. And they'd left him in thought, trying to sort out his memories, which now seemed so much more important than they had been before the voice had spoken to him. He had questions, but there was a small glimmer of hope that somehow, this would help him.

The voice hadn't returned in some time, and that silence had helped the processing of his memories.

He knew he had died. That much was abundantly clear. He just couldn't remember or imagine how he had died, beyond a feeling of satisfaction and pride. That in and of itself gave him comfort; he knew that he had died with _purpose_.

With those realizations came subtle amounts of light. The darkness surrounding him was thick, but not thick enough that light couldn't cut it. He was satisfied with this , even that realization was not enough to satiate his need for a single answer.

The identity of the woman in his mind was confounding him.

_Who are you?_

Nothing answered him immediately, and if he could've, he would have sighed. There were other questions he had, and just as many spaces in which answers would've fit perfectly.

**I'm a friend, Auron. But, I can't give you anything you are not ready for.**

Not ready for…? What did she mean? He began to feel a mild sense of irritation as he thought suddenly that perhaps… he was being played with. And more than anything else, he knew one thing.

He refused to be a pawn.

**I only wish to help you. I have no interest in toying with your mind, and I am only allowed the control you allow me to have.**

_How can I trust you? I have never even met you._

**Listen to you heart. And if that fails you, listen to your instincts. If they tell you I'm not to be trusted, then I'll leave you.**

It made sense; it was safe. The simple fact that she was in his mind, and he could force her out with a thought did bring him comfort. And she did say she'd leave if he asked. And if all she wanted to do was to help him…

_What sort of assistance can you offer a dead man?_

There was no answer immediately, and again, he closed his eyes. Her random bouts of silence were frustrating, to say the least.

**What makes you believe with such confidence that you are dead?**

A simple question, he might even call it safe.

_I remember my death. That summoner sent me… whatever that means._

**The summoner. Tell me her name. **

He stopped. Yet another question that he could not give her light to.

_I don't remember._

**Try. The summoner who sent you was…**

He focused his whole being on her question. He could do no less. The woman in question was the daughter of his friend… Br…aska? He shook his head, trying to shake a memory loose.

And suddenly, it was there.

_Yuna. Her name was Yuna Kaname._

He felt immensely pleased with himself. He'd remembered part of his life; the name of the summoner who had sent him. And while he still had no idea exactly what it meant to be "sent," he thought it made sense that it helped him pass from living to death.

**Do you wish to be dead, Auron?**

_No, of course not! I just know that there's nothing I can change of it!_

His answer was immediate, angry, but also mildly resigned. He knew that death was permanent, unchanging, unyielding. Once one had experienced its sting, one would not return.

**Please consider what I am about to tell you. Once again, remember, I am a friend. If you wish me gone, I will leave without hesitation. And if you allow me to help you, then I will without question. If you offer me the opportunity, I will help you find out why.**

If possible, he would've scowled. The woman spoke in riddles, and it was aggravating. But, once again his curiosity got the best of him.

_Why?_

**Auron, look around you. You don't remember it all, but try. Is this what death is; a darkening abyss? Slowly but surely losing everything you know and value of your life? Is this what you were taught in your childhood? **

He focused; fighting through the pain the memories brought him. And suddenly, he realized with a start that the woman was correct. There was nothing about this that seemed like natural death. But…

_If I am not dead, then what am I?_


End file.
